All But Lost: A Novel. Vol. 2 of 3Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
All But Lost: A Novel. Vol. 2 of 3
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Fiction
“Well, Mr. Maynard, we are not to start till half-past nine, it's no
use getting there too early, so if you don't mind going upstairs for
an hour, I will tell you when it is time to be off.”
“If there's no sparring going on, Perkins, I think we'll go out for
a stroll, and come back at the time you name. I can't stand the bad
tobacco smoke, and the bad singing.”
“Now, gentlemen, if you're ready,” Perkins said, when they returned,
“I'm with you.”
They went into the bar-parlour, where the Slogger, a powerful man,
with the unmistakeable look of a prize fighter, was awaiting them.
“You are not thinking of going like that?” he asked. “Lor', they'd
never let you in, not if you'd twenty pass-words, and if they did,
they'd pitch into us directly we were in the light. No; if you mean
to go, you must go like working men.”
“Have you any clothes you could lend us, Perkins?”
“Well, sir, I've an old greatcoat which would cover you well enough,
and I dare say I can rummage out something for Mr. Prescott. As
for hats, your best way is to send out and buy a couple of cheap
billycocks. You can pull them down over your eyes. I think that with
that, and if you take off your collars, and put a black handkerchief
or a bird's eye round your necks, you will pass well enough.”
The transformation was soon effected, and the two young men could not
help laughing at each other's altered appearance.
“You'll pass very well for a bricklayer out of employ, Frank.”
“Well, Prescott,” Frank retorted, “I could swear to you as a
disreputable-looking tailor anywhere.”
A cab was at the door, and the party were soon off.
“Now,” Perkins said, “if there is a shindy, we must all keep
together, and then we shall be as right as ninepence, whatever comes
of it. I'd back the Slogger and you and I, Mr. Maynard, to clear
the roughs out of any room in London in about five minutes. Mr.
Prescott's very handy with the gloves, but he hasn't weight, and in a
close fight weight tells.”
“Where is the place, Perkins?”
“In the New Cut, sir. It's a penny gaff at ordinary times.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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